For Love of Country
by DOKChairman
Summary: The epilogue. Jack fulfills his promise. I'm particularly proud of this piece of angst. Read at your own discretion.
1. Chapter 1

Title: For Love of Country

Author: DOKChairman

Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to Counteragent is fair game.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for my bank account, J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC own Alias. I own nothing so don't sue me.

Author's Note: For those of you who are fans of my other story, _Angel Dark_, don't worry. I haven't stopped working on it. In fact I have about 35% of the next chapter written. This idea came to me awhile ago and it won't leave me alone. The only way to clear my head is to put this story to paper, so here it is.

Warning!!!: This is a dark and angsty piece. It is quite possibly my most ambitious work to date. At least in terms of introspection and analysis of the characters. I have no idea whether or not I will actually nail the characters, but I'm going to try. However, you should be warned that characters are going to die. I won't say who (even though in all honesty, it is plain as day), but there will be a character death. Don't say I didn't warn you.

  
  
  


There comes a point in every man's life where he must make a decision. A decision so profound, so enormous, that it alters the very nature of his existence. This choice can be good and it can be bad, but no matter what, the choice changes the way he lives his life from that point onward. Some men are lucky, and only have to make that choice once in their lives. Some men are not.

For many, the choice is not a choice at all. It is merely something that they are forced to accept and move on. An inevitable conclusion.

Some men try to resist change. They try to do all they can to make things stay the same. To maintain the status quo of their lives. These men are fools. These men will sooner change the direction the earth rotates, than stop their lives from changing. These men can't accept that they must make a choice. That they must change.

CIA Special Agent Michael Vaughn understood this fundamental fact of nature better than most. He had made several choices in his life that had changed his life. He chose to join the CIA. He chose to become Sydney Bristow's handler. He chose to live the life he was forced to live. To live a life of danger and lies.

He understood that one cannot stop change, but only that one can guide change. As long as he made the choice to change, then he could maintain some sense of control over his life. It was little comfort, but it was more than most men were allowed. 

Despite this understanding of the nature of change, Michael Vaughn was still presented with a choice he did not expect, nor want to make. He wanted to be a fool. He wanted to believe his life would not change, and that he would not have to make the choice life had presented him with. It was a choice, should he make it, that would change his life in a way no other choice he had ever made had. It was a life-altering decision. It would change not only what path his life took, but it would change who he was.

It was not an easy decision, but in the end, Michael Vaughn knew what choice he must make. Because, as he knew, his choice would not only affect him, but it would also affect those most important to him. If he was going to choose the inevitable, he was going to make the choice as the man he was, not as the man he could become. 

For Michael Vaughn, he was forced to make his choice on the morning of April the 15, 2003, at exactly 9:35 A.M. That was the morning he chose to die.

  
  


P.S. This story will be at most three chapters long. It is not a long piece, but a short piece of introspection. Please tell me what you think. All thoughts are welcome. However, I would please ask that no one comments on the fact that I am killing off a main character. Critique anything you want, just not that. It is the central point of the entire story and is set in stone. Not even God himself, or Jennifer Garner in a bikini, could make me change my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: For Love of Country

Author: DOKChairman

Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to Counteragent is fair game.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for my bank account, J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC own Alias. I own nothing so don't sue me.

Author's Note: I'm sure most of you have forgotten this story. I can't say I blame you seeing how I forgot about it too. Oh well. Its here now, so I expect lots of feedback. Do you hear me people? Lots, copious, even oodles of feedback better come to me. I went through more than five rewrites during the writing process of this chapter so I hope you like it. 

  


Dedication: To the usual peeps. Heeehe, I used peeps! It seems so wrong coming from a white boy from the suburbs. Jada and Angela, you guys rock!

  


"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." - Nathan Hale

Jack Bristow could hear him from all the way down the hall. The anguished screams reverberated down the hall and saturated the air with their dour foreboding. Jack paused, stopping his determined pace. He didn't know if he could do this.

If it had been any other person, Jack knew that he would be able to separate his feelings from his actions. But this was someone he knew. Someone he saw almost everyday. This was someone he knew his daughter cared very much for. This was not a stranger. This was Michael Vaughn.

Another scream, painful in its intensity, shook Jack out of his stupor. He resumed his carefully controlled pace. Not too fast, not too slow; just the right pace for someone who didn't care what was going on less than thirty feet away from him. Jack Bristow couldn't care.

Jack reached the door to the interrogation room and heard muffled voices coming from inside. He took a deep breath before grasping the handle of the door. Jack turned the handle and opened the door with a confident, fluid motion. He was not prepared for what he saw.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh. Jack stepped inside and he was assaulted by a new smell. The smell of urine and sweat. Jack almost gagged, the smell was so thick.

Jack closed the door behind him and finally forced his eyes to settle on the last thing he wanted to see.

He was lying limply in his specially modified dentist-like chair. Straps were pulled tightly across his chest, his wrists, and his thighs. Even in the dim light, Jack could see the angry red marks the straps caused as they cut into his naked skin.

Jack stepped closer. A single light lit the room, hovering over Vaughn's body in a sickly putrid yellow. Jack's face contorted itself into its stony visage and he studied Vaughn's form with an indifferent eye.

Vaughn's eyes were half shut, but his eyes were clearly bloodshot and unfocused. Jack wasn't surprised. He knew from what Sloane had told him that Vaughn had been pumped so full of drugs that he probably didn't even know his own name. His skin was a pallid color, clammy and covered in angry black bruises.

Several cuts lacerated his body. Some were deep, but most were shallow. Meant to cause intense pain without doing serious damage to the body. His abdomen was a deeply dark purplish color, no doubt the result of several broken ribs.

Jack was nearly overcome with disgust when he saw the glaringly red burn marks on his chest. Jack could only assume that was where they had attached the electrodes to his skin. Little round circles, about the size of a silver dollar, pockmarked Vaughn's chest.

Jack had to turn away before he let his emotions get the best of him. He turned his back to Vaughn and fixed the room's only other occupant with a stony stare. His eyes carefully took in the tall, slightly balding man, who was just packing up the machine used to electrocute Vaughn. 

Jack addressed him tersely, "Progress?"

The man shook his head negatively. "No. He has built up a tolerance to the chemicals and any further use of the electrodes will likely kill him."

Jack took in the information with a slight nod. "I've been asked to attempt my own methods of...interrogation. Sloane wants you to report to him and fully debrief him on Agent Vaughn's present level of cooperation."

The man adjusted his thin wire frame glasses and mumbled a response. Jack ignored him; he was already running through scenarios in his head on how he was going to handle the situation. The man finally finished packing up his machine and silently left the room. Jack was finally alone with Vaughn.

Despite the foulness of the air, Jack breathed in deeply. He composed himself and walked over to Vaughn, leaning over his body. That was when he heard the barely audible singing. 

Jack leaned closer, almost pressing his ear up against Vaughn's mouth. The words came out of Vaughn's mouth, breathless and hoarse. "37 bottles of beer on the wall, 37 bottles of beer. Take one down-" Vaughn paused and gulped shallowly. "-pass it around. 36 bottles of beer on the wall." Vaughn continued singing, gradually counting down to the song's inevitable end.

Jack leaned back away from Vaughn, and this time he didn't stop the look of pity that crossed his face. He was actually quite impressed. Vaughn was using a counter-interrogation tactic that all agents were taught as they went through psychological conditioning. The object was to find something simple and easy to remember, preferably a song or phrase, and constantly repeat it in your mind. The belief was that as long as your mind was occupied else where, you would be less inclined to succumb to the interrogator.

Jack hated to break Vaughn out of what was probably his comfort zone, but he needed to get started before those watching began to get suspicious. Jack removed his jacket, placing it neatly over a metal chair, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He briefly readjusted his shoulder holster so as to allow more freedom of movement.

He resumed his place standing over Vaughn and contemplated on how to make Vaughn aware of his presence without Vaughn inadvertently letting slip that they knew each other. Vaughn was obviously not in his right mind and Jack could not depend on him to maintain protocol. 

Fortunately, the situation was taken out of Jack's hands. Lunging forward against his restraints, Vaughn suddenly came to full awareness. Jack saw his eyes wildly scan the room until they settled on him. Vaughn's eyes widened in disbelief and then he collapsed back down onto his chair. He sighed loudly and croaked out, "Go away! I already told you I don't know anything!"

Jack responded gruffly, "We both know that's not true Agent Vaughn. We know that you are an agent for the CIA. We know that you were witnissed leaving the scene of a recent SD-6 operation in which two of the members of our Security Section were killed. And we know that you are in contact with someone who may be a mole in this organization."

Vaughn groaned. "I don't know anything! How many times do I have to tell you people that? I don't even know what SD-6 is!"

Without warning, Jack punched Vaughn in his left kidney. A whoosh of air escaped Vaughn's mouth and he let out a sickly groan. "I'll ask again Agent Vaughn. Who is the mole and how do you contact them?"

Vaughn's reply was barely audible, "I-I-I don't know."

Jack sighed and this time punched Vaughn in the face. Vaughn's head snapped to the right and he moaned pathetically. Jack grabbed Vaughn's bruised chin with his left hand and turned Vaughn's head so that he could look into his eyes.

In that moment Jack tried to convey how sorry he was for doing this. He pleaded with his eyes to endure, to not give up. He had lasted almost six days. He could last more. He had to. To tell SD-6 what he knew would give up Sydney and Jack knew neither man wanted that.

Whether or not Vaughn understood his silent plead, his eyes closed tightly and his whole body deflated. Jack instantly grew apprehensive. It was almost like he was giving up...

Vaughn's eyes opened and in a brief moment of total clarity he whispered, "I can't do this anymore. Its too hard. I-I just can't...do this anymore." Vaughn's voice was flat and tired.

Then Vaughn opened his mouth but no sound came out. Jack leaned closer, like before, and placed his ear near Vaughn's mouth. Vaughn spoke so softly, so resigned that Jack knew there was no way the recording devices could pick up anything. "I can't go on Jack. I-I want you to...kill me. Please Jack, just kill me."

P.S. I know I originally said that this would only be three chapters but I decided to add one more. I thought the story would be better served if I split this chapter and chapter 3 apart. Next chapter will be the introspective piece as we get inside Vaughn's mind and find out what makes him tick. Besides wanting to jump Sydney's bones of course. Not that I blame him. Not at all.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Title: For Love of Country

Author: DOKChairman

Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to Counteragent is fair game.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for my bank account, J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC own Alias. I own nothing so don't sue me.

Dedication: To Jada and Angela, you are the wind beneath my wings.

  
  


"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." - Nathan Hale

  


One of the first things they teach you at the Farm is that everybody breaks. No one, absolutely no one, can last forever. The human body can only endure a finite amount of pain and damage. Eventually, they say, the body gives up and the will to continue fighting goes with it. Eventually, all you care about is making the pain stop. You will do anything, say anything, to make them stop the pain. 

Vaughn had always been struck by this knowledge. After all, who wouldn't be? It wasn't every day that a twenty-something, testosterone addled, all-knowing, cocky young man was told that he wasn't invincible. Because that was what they were telling you. They were telling you that even though you thought you were Superman, you were still susceptible to kryptonite and the enemy knew that.

They were telling you that despite your claims to the contrary, you were not that one agent who would never break. Oh sure, they would tell you that a determined man, a dedicated man, could hold out for days, maybe even weeks, but they always made sure that they would end that statement with the same line. "No man lasts forever," they would say. 

And that was the key. The cornerstone of their entire indoctrination process. Dedication. To the Agency, to your country, to yourself. If you were dedicated enough, if you put the needs of the mission above your own, then you could hold out. For a time.

Vaughn had embraced that idea, and for a time, it had worked for him. Until he met Sydney Bristow. That was when his life was turned upside down. That was when dedication to ones country was no longer enough.

Sydney was special, and Vaughn had recognized that fact the second he met her. There were certain qualities in Sydney that most people just didn't possess. Certain qualitites that Vaughn knew he didn't possess. They were qualities that needed to be protected; and she needed to be protected above all else.

That was when Vaughn's dedication had changed. Instead of dedication to his country, he became dedicated to Sydney Bristow. That wasn't to say that he was no longer loyal to his country, he was, it just wasn't enough for him anymore. It wasn't enough to endure the pain of wanting something you can't have, to endure the lies and danger, and above all to endure the pain of loss. She was.

Sydney gave his life a purpose, and he relished in her presence. She was his proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. His reward for staying the course and taking down SD-6 and the Alliance. She was his life.

It was only fitting that the woman he lived for would also be the woman he died for. Symmetry was as fickle and as temperamental as Fate.

He hadn't even seen them coming. He was on his normal morning run, nearing the end of his circuit, when three men dressed all in black had grabbed him and thrown him in a black van. They had stuck a needle in his neck and had injected him with something. The next thing he knew, he woke up naked and strapped to a chair.

He had had fantasies similar to this in the past, but they had all involved Sydney and he hadn't been afraid for his life. This was no fantasy.

Vaughn had always wanted to meet Arvin Sloane. To meet the man who had made Sydney's life a living hell. He had often fantasied about that too. To walk up to the man and put a bullet in his head. Just so that Sydney could be free. Just so that he could be free.

Free to tell Sydney that he was in love with her. Free to walk into her house. Free to meet her friends. Just free to be free.

Instead of that fantasy playing out, a nightmare occurred. The nightmare that he was living.

They had started easy enough. They had injected him with Sodium Pentothal. When that didn't work, they had moved to Sodium Amytal and Vaughn had found himself in a hypnotic state. They had asked him questions about his past, about what he did at the Agency, about who he worked with, but Vaughn only ended up reliving events from his childhood. That had been a form of torture in and of itself. It was like he was reliving his life before he lost his father. It had been Hell because he knew what would eventually happen in the end.

Time passed for Vaughn on a different level during those sessions. He had no idea how long he had been under the influence of the inordinate number of drugs they had forced upon him. The chemicals kept his mind loose, confused, and easily amenable but somehow he had managed to keep the most important secret to himself. He clung to it like a life preserver in a sea of endless darkness. He knew that if he gave them the one piece of information that they desperately wanted, then Sydney's life would be forfeit and Vaughn would not allow that.

If Sydney's life was forfeit, then so was his. Vaughn had no delusions of a Shakespearean ending. He had always known in the back of his mind that Sydney could eventually die. Vaughn knew that if that were to happen, he would be devastated and he would never get over it, but he would continue on living. However, if he was the cause of her death, he didn't know if he could take that kind of guilt and pain. He would not give up Sydney because her safety was his sanity.

Eventually they had given up on the chemicals. That was when the real interrogation begun. Vaughn once again had found himself face to face with the man he hated. Sloane had given him one last chance to talk, Vaughn had told him to go to Hell, and Sloane had sighed disappointedly. That was when Vaughn had seen them.

They had been tall men, with wide shoulders, and forearms almost as big as Vaughn's thighs. They never talked, never issued a sound, and that drove Vaughn almost as crazy as the pyschotropic drugs they had saturated his body with.

They had hooked him up to an IV to flush his body of chemicals, they didn't want anything to dull the pain and provide relief, and then they had started to work. They began at his abdomen and worked their way upward. They never asked a question during their sessions. They just beat him. At the end of the day someone else would come in and ask him if he would like to confess. Every time, he answered the same. No.

They never fed him, and only provided him with enough water to keep his body hydrated. He was constantly light headed and thirsty. His throat was raw, his breaths shallow, and he had trouble focusing on anything. Vaughn was almost positive that he had a concussion, and he knew for a fact that several ribs were broken. But he never talked. He never gave up hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be rescued. Deep down he knew that he was going to die, but he desperately clung to anything that would keep his will to continue on.

He was afraid because he knew he was starting to give up. The pain was becoming too much. He could barely stay conscious for more than a few hours and it hurt just to breathe. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Sydney would die if he talked. However, he knew that eventually, even that deterrent would not be strong enough to hold his tongue.

And then the tall man with the wire frame glasses had entered Vaughn's room with his machine, and Vaughn entered a whole new dimension of pain. This time the pain wasn't localized to just one specific area, it spread to his whole body. His body became a mass of twitching limbs, his skin burned and lost all color, and he was turned into a drooling blob. He had lost all control over his bodily functions after that. None of his limbs could move. The only part of him that he had any control over had been his mind and he had taken to humming simple songs to keep that small part of him alive.

Vaughn had always found the idea of singing to oneself embarrassing and ludicrous. That was until he joined the CIA. When the counter-intelligence instructors at the Farm had taught them methods of countering interrogation, one of their methods had been the mnemonic device. The trainees were told to create a mnemonic device or a mantra, anything simple that they could focus on and channel their thoughts into. As long as they were focusing on remembering that simple phrase, song, or word group, they would be less inclined to talk.

That was what Vaughn had been reduced down to. Singing nearly inaudible songs to maintain his sanity. But even that was quickly becoming inadequate. After the third day of enduring the Machine, Vaughn no longer had the will to fight. He was approaching the brink of no return. He knew that if he had to endure one more day of the Machine he would break.

Thankfully, for the first time since waking up in the cold, dark room in the bowels of SD-6, Vaughn felt relief. For the first time, Vaughn had hope. That hope came in the form of Jack Bristow.

  
  


"I can't go on Jack. I-I want you to...kill me. Please Jack, just kill me."

Jack froze in indecision. His ear still hovered over Vaughn's mouth, and his body was rigid, but for some reason he couldn't move. The desperation that he heard in Vaughn's voice almost broke his heart. He had never heard such need before. The once strong man that he had grown to gradually respect, and truth be told, gradually like, had been reduced to nothing more than a pathetic man begging for death.

It was at that moment in time that for the first time in his life Jack Bristow felt pure, unadulterated hate. Hate more strong than when he had found out who his wife really was, hate more strong than when Sloane had had Danny killed, hate more strong than when he had almost killed his own daughter in Madagascar. He did not feel this hate towards Arvin Sloane because of what had been done to Michael Vaughn. No, he hated Sloane because in that instant he knew he would do what the man laying limply below him had begged him to do. He would end Vaughn's life. _He_ would. This was something he knew his daughter would never forgive him for. And that was why he hated.

Jack finally moved away from Vaughn and straightened. After a brief bout of hesitation and contemplation, Jack walked to his suit jacket and pulled out a pen. He twisted the knob and all the surveillance in the room went dark. For a few minutes, Jack would be free to talk with Vaughn. This would undoubtedly get him in a lot of trouble, but he owed Vaughn a few minutes of blessed solitude.

Jack walked back to Vaughn's side and said stiffly, "I have disabled the bugs; we are free to talk."

Vaughn heavy lidded eyes focused on Jack with renewed vigor. "Please Jack, you have to kill me. I can't last another day." He broke into a coughing fit and flecks of blood shot out of his mouth. Jack winced at the sight. Vaughn continued on in a pleading tone, "I tried Jack. I really did. I didn't tell them about Sydney. You have to believe me!"

Jack's face softened and he grasped Vaughn's shoulder, making sure he didn't squeeze too hard, and gently pushed the surging Vaughn back down. "I believe you Vaughn. I know you didn't give up Sydney. For that you will have my eternal gratitude."

Jack's words seemed to calm Vaughn and he collapsed limply against his chair. He closed his eyes and his breathing became shallow and even. A look of contented peace settled over his mottled features and he mumbled, "I would never hurt Sydney. Never hurt her." He repeated the same thing over and over again.

Jack sighed and he actually brushed his hand against Vaughn's forehead. Vaughn opened his eyes in surprise and Jack quickly removed his hand. Vaughn looked up at Jack and asked, "Does she know?"

Jack's face contorted painfully. "No."

Vaughn sighed and his eyes closed briefly in resignation. "Good. She would have tried something stupid and likely gotten herself killed." He coughed again. "W-what...are you going...to tell her?"

"The truth. I've lied to her long enough."

Vaughn nodded. He didn't necessarily agree but it was Jack's decision. He just hoped that Sydney would understand that her father did what he had to do. Not only was Jack protecting himself, but he was protecting the Agency and her as well. 

The two grew quiet and Vaughn again closed his eyes. It was becoming increasingly harder to stay awake. He was fairly certain he was dying, he just didn't know how long it would take. That was the problem. He might live longer than he could hold out.

Jack's strong voice pierced Vaughn's haze. "Do you love her?"

The question surprised Vaughn. He didn't know if he wanted to answer. In the end, the need to just say it once, to somebody other than himself, won over his hesitance. "At first I tried not to. I really did. I tried to be the good handler that didn't become emotionally attached, but I just couldn't do it." Vaughn paused and looked Jack straight in the eyes. "As I'm sure you're well aware of, your daughter is an incredible woman. She is truly special Jack, and I was a goner the second I laid eyes on her. I didn't want to love her, but I did, and despite everything that has happened I can honestly say that she is the best thing to ever happen to me."

"So you're doing this because you love her?" Jack needed to clarify.

As hard as it was to do, Vaughn nodded his head. "Yes. As much as I don't want to admit it, if she had been any other agent, I would have broken days ago. That's why I need you to kill me Jack. I don't want her to die because of me. I could not handle that."

Jack patted Vaughn's shoulder and said softly, "I know Vaughn. I know. And Vaughn, I'm so sorry."

Jack knew that he was probably past his time limit. If he was going to do this, he had to do it now. Jack stepped back away from Vaughn and rested his hand on his gun. Vaughn's eyes followed him as he moved. "Thank you Jack."

"_Thank you _Vaughn. I know I never told you this but Sydney could not have been placed in better hands than yours."

Jack released his gun from his holster and moved the slide back to move a round into the chamber. He cocked the hammer and lifted the gun. He took a deep breath.

Vaughn managed to croak out one last thing, "Can you do me a favor Jack?" Jack nodded his head. "Tell..my mother...that I'm sorry." Vaughn's voice was choked up as he knew that this was the end.

Jack closed his eyes. "I will Michael. I will." And then right as the door to the room bursted open, Jack pulled the trigger.

  
  
  
  


P.S. Chapter 4 will be the conclusion. Tell me what you think of this chapter. Did you like it? Hate it? Do I do good angst or should I just stick to comedy? Inquiring minds want to know.


	4. Epilogue

Title: For Love of Country

Author: DOKChairman

Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to Counteragent is fair game.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for my bank account, J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC own Alias. I own nothing so don't sue me.

  


Author's Note: OK, I NEED EVERYONE TO READ THIS. There seems to be a huge misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that is entirely my fault I assure you. I should have known that the way I ended the last chapter was going to lead to the kind of questions I've been getting. I'm such a moron. I shouldn't have made the end so ambiguous.

Let me address certain things. First, there is noone at the door. Well there is, but its not Sydney or anybody else. When I wrote that I meant that it was someone from SD-6 coming to check what was going on because Jack had disabled the surveillance devices. There is no rescue. Vaughn is as dead as a doornail. Second, I thought for a long time on if I should do a chapter with Sydney but I decided against it. It didn't fit in with my vision of the story. This story is about three people: Vaughn, Jack, and Vaughn's mother and the loss each of them feel. I figure we all know how Sydney would react so we don't need to see her. Some of you may disagree but I ain't changing my mind.

Thirdly, some of you will probably feel cheated by the end, but if you are that's good because that means my job was done properly. This story is meant to grab your emotions and never let go. Its not supposed to be a big all inconclusive plot. Its an angsty piece with no setup, plot devlopment, or conclusion. It just ends. There I'm done. Please continue with the great feedback.

  


Dedication: To the dirtiest ho I know. You know who you are. And to her partner, the woman who has trouble drinking soda.

  
  


"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." - Nathan Hale

  
  


Fittingly enough, the skies overhead the sky of Langley, Virginia were overcast and gloomy. Jack Bristow wouldn't have it any way. The sun did not deserve to shine on a day like this. This was a somber occasion.

Jack sighed and knew that it was time for him to do what he had come to do. This was something he dreaded, something he loathed, but he had made a promise and he was not going to break that promise. No matter what. Even if he was not supposed to be there.

He cut her off before she made it inside. In as gentle and as nonthreatening a tone as he could manage Jack asked. "Mrs. Vaughn?"

Marie Vaughn stopped her dispirited walk and looked at the tall man standing before her with a critical eye. She was tempted to tell him to go away. She was supposed to be here for her son's memorial ceremony and she did not want to be interrupted. Something in the man's eyes made her hesitate.

She responded carefully, "Yes, I'm Marie Vaughn. Who are you?"

Jack was suddenly at a loss for words. Did he tell her his name? It only took him a quick second to decide. "My name is Jack Bristow Mrs. Vaughn. I...worked with your son."

Marie instantly went on edge at the mention of her son. Her eyes saddened and her head drooped slightly. She felt her eyes begin to water but she harshly shut her eyes to stop the confluence of tears.

She repeated weakly, "My son?"

Jack wanted to do something for the woman standing in front of him, but he didn't know what. He was not used to showing emotion of any kind. Finally he decided on just giving her the time she needed to compose herself.

When she looked ready for him to continue he began, "Yes, your son Michael. We worked closely for two years and I just wanted you to know that he was an excellent agent. He served his country well."

Marie's eyes hardened and Jack hastily added, "He was also a good man, Mrs. Vaughn. One of the finest I have ever met. He would have made his father proud."

Marie's eyes widened in surprise. "You knew William?"

Jack nodded his head stiffly. "Yes. I had the pleasure of working with him for a number of years." Jack paused. "I'm sorry for you loss. For both of your losses."

The two mourners stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. Jack fidgeted nervously. There was more he wanted to say but he wasn't sure how to say it. Luckily, Marie provided the opening he needed. "D-d-do you know how he died? They won't tell me." Her voice was low and pleading.

"I can't tell you where your son died, and I can't tell you why he died, but I can tell you how he died. He died a man. He died a man who would not give up his principles, who would not betray his friends. He gave his life for his country Mrs. Vaughn. Don't ever forget that."

Marie sniffled quietly. "You were there weren't you?"

Jack smiled softly. He was amazed at how perceptive the woman was. No wonder Vaughn had been so exceptional. He came from good stock.

Jack faltered slightly, "I...was there when he died." He paused and swallowed slowly. "He told me to tell you that he was sorry."

Marie couldn't hold the tears in anymore and she started openly crying. Jack was once again unsure of what to do. Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around the woman and held her in a light hug. Marie clung to his jacket and sobbed.

She mumbled, "I begged him not to join the CIA, but he was always so independent and determined. He desperately wanted to follow in his father's footsteps." At that utterance of irony, her cries became more violent.

Jack patted her on the back. "I'm so very sorry Mrs. Vaughn."

Not for the first time, Jack was struck by the vicious irony of the situation. Her son had died for the daughter of the woman who had murdered her husband. That was something Jack would never get over. He owed Michael Vaughn a debt of gratitude that he would never be able to repay.

Eventually Marie calmed down and she embarrassingly extracted herself from Jack's embrace. Both shared another nervous silence. Marie looked down at her watch and noticed with some alarm that it was almost time for the ceremony to start. "Oh dear, its almost time now. Why don't you join me Mr. Bristow. You were obviously close to Michael."

Jack winced imperceptibly. He had been far from close to Vaughn. "I'm sorry Mrs. Vaughn, but I must decline. I would like nothing more than to be there for your son's ceremony but unfortunately its just not possible. I'm not even supposed to be here now."

Marie asked worryingly. "You won't get in trouble will you?"

Jack reassured her, "It doesn't matter. I made a promise to your son."

Marie responded softly, "Oh. Well thank you Mr. Bristow for your kind words. It helps to know that Michael had an effect on the people around him. Its nice to know he will be remembered."

Jack actually felt a tear slip down his cheek. "I will never forget your son Mrs. Vaughn. I owe your family more than you will ever know."

Marie looked at Jack with a puzzled look. She was about to comment on what Jack had said when a noise drew her attention towards the Original Headquarters Building where the ceremony was being held. She turned her head back to Jack but to her surprise he was nowhere to be seen. In his place, lying carefully on the ground, was a gold watch. With a flutter of surprise Marie picked up the watch and recognized it immediately. It was her son's watch. The watch he had been given by his father. Marie felt a tear fall down her cheek and she placed the watch in the pocket of her thick coat. She turned around and set off towards the ceremony.

  


Marie could not tear her eyes away from the marble wall in front of her. 80 tiny two and a half inch by two and a half inch stars glared back at her. _80_. Not 79 but 80. One more to recognize the death of her son.

Marie just stared at the wall that she had grown to hate. She had hoped, no she had prayed, that she would never have to see it again. If it was possible, this time was much worse than the first. She had lost her only son. Her connection to her dead husband was truly gone. All that she had left was a star.

Marie finally pulled her eyes away from the wall to face the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency who was beginning the ceremony. "Today we are here to honor and mourn the passing of one of this Agency's most promising agents. Michael Vaughn was an exemplary agent, beloved by his coworkers, dedicated to his country, and a good man. We mourn the loss of another one of this country's brightest stars. Michael Vaughn was a hero who died in the service of his country. For that we will forever be in his debt."

The Director walked over to Marie and handed her a folded American flag. He whispered to her, "This country can never repay you for the losses that you have suffered. But know this, your son did not die in vain. Because of his death, he gave this Agency the opportunity to destroy an organization that would have caused hundreds, if not thousands of deaths. Your son was a hero. Remember him as such."

Marie accepted the flag and placed it demurely in her lap. She quietly responded, "Thank you. And my son was always a hero."

The Director smiled gently and nodded his head. He then stood up and walked up to the wall. He picked up the ornate pen lying next to the glass case and turned the page of the book lying there. Whether by blind luck or by Fate, the name Michael Vaughn was written directly underneath the name of another Vaughn. In death, father and son were finally together again.

Marie stood up and turned her back on the marble wall. The haunting words had been ingrained on her mind years ago. "In honor of those members of the Cental Intelligence Agency who gave their lives in the service of their country." Marie cried silently as she left the building of so many bad memories; clutching the American flag tightly in her hand. For love of country indeed.

  
  


P.S. I credit the depressing nature of this story to my own crappy life and my love of really depressing music. I recommend listening to the song "My Immortal" by Evanescence while reading this story. It almost made me cry while listening to that song and I wrote the damn thing. But mostly I just like putting Vaughn through hell. The man is just so perfect that he pisses me off. I figure if all of Sydney's boyfriends die, eventually she'll have to make it to me. Hehe. Wait, what do you mean this isn't real? Huh? Alias is just a TV show? No freakin way! Sydney is real and nobody can tell me otherwise. Lalalala.

P.S. Thanks for all the great feedback. I'm glad I was able to make people cry. That was my goal from the beginning. In fact I might just kill Vaughn off in all my stories. Nah. He's got to get the girl in at least one fic.

P.S. Now it is time for the gratuitous pimping. If you like this story, please read my other work. Angel Dark is guaranteed to make you confused and Ham and Cheese is guaranteed to make you high just from reading it. Trust me on this. 9 out of 10 doctors agree. DOKChairman fanfic is good for the heart but bad for the lungs, the liver, and quite possibly the kidneys. I'm not sure on this one yet. The lab reports are inconclusive.


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